How Much Changed (On hiatus)
by Seren Arian
Summary: Cammie was 12 when she was abducted and taken from her family by the Circle. She was tortured through means of inexplicable evil s inhuman she now believes her family didn't bother to find her. Three years later, she checks to see how well her family is doing when a certain green-eyed boy sees her. Rated T for rape references, non-graphical; and profanity.
1. Prologue

**Hi~! This is one of my many fanfics I hope you can all enjoy this! For my The Vamp Girl readers, I'm currently writing Chapter 10, I'm just finishing it first in my computer before I post, that way I upload fast, so please bear with me~! **

**XOXO,**

**Cammary Erys**

**P.S. This is a prologue**

**xXx**

_I woke up, just recently bearing with the death of my father __**(A/N: You usually start Gallagher when you're 12, right? And that Rachel accepted to be headmistress when her husband died, right?)**__, to the sounds of hushed voices murmuring in my late father's study. "Will you send them to Gallagher and Blackthorne?" A woman's stern demand echoed out the creek of my door._

_Standing up, I silently crept to my door, curious as to what Blackthorne was. "I guess so, Patricia," My mother sighed. "If they can't protect themselves, what Matthew wanted for us to have will be gone."_

"_But this is just one of a thousand reasons, isn't it, Rachel?" A man—probably Uncle Joe—countered. My hands ran over the door's splintery sides, not daring to breathe when I heard a thump on the floor. _Probably Grant_, I thought._

"_You know, curiosity _did_ kill the cat, Cam," My brother whispered. I rolled my eyes._

"Stupidity_ framed curiosity, sloppiness framed it, too." I shot back. __**(A/N: Sorry, read that once, and I've been obsessing over that quote, I just added the sloppiness part. **____**)**__ "What are _you_ doing awake, Grant?" He shrugged and plopped himself on his bed, the one just a few feet from mine. "I wondered what you were doing up and about."_

_Another Morgan eye-roll escaped me. "Just because you were born 5.4 seconds earlier than me doesn't give you exact leverage to be a protective older brother." I scoffed at him as my eyes peered over the slim crack to see the study's door wide open. My mother sat on a chair, fiddling with her wedding ring as she answered questions I never knew was possible to even ask._

"_So you're retiring?" Grandma Cameron wondered aloud. Mom gave a simple nod of a head. "Then how can you insure the safety of Cameron and Grant?"_

"_I'd be the new headmistress of Gallagher if that's what I have to do." She said firmly. Grandma Cameron arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. _How can a 59 year old woman pull _that_ off? _I wondered._

"_Then you're only insuring Cammie's safety," The stern woman scoffed._

"_That's because she's the _only_ one who knows what Matthew left." Mom paused. "Grant knows nothing about what Matthew knows. What Cammie knows."_

"_Then do _you_ know?" A man pondered. Mom just flashed him an irritated look and shook her head furiously, her dark hair waving around._

"_He only told me that he knows something," She whispered softly, "Something Cammie _accidentally_ saw on the night of the dead drop. The night of the circus."_

_I blinked. The circus? What was about the circus? And when did the dead drop happen? My brother sighed. "Whatevs, Camster," My brother said nonchalantly as his back hit the bed again. "I'm going back to sleep."_

"_Dream of hot girls for me," I smirked at my 12-year old brothers suddenly hormonal dreams. He glared at me and shut his eyes closed, already snoring. _That guy can sleep!_ I thought._

"_What about Grant?" Grandma Cameron demanded. "Have you thought of the possibility that the Circle would try and use him as bait?" There was no reply. "Well, Rachel?"_

"_They won't," Mom snapped as I gave a small gasp. She _never_ snapped at Grandma Cameron. "I'd asked Joe to be a teacher at Blackthorne, keep an eye on Grant."_

"_And _you'd_ trust_ him_?" The stern woman scoffed at her. "Honestly Rachel, it's _impossible_, you can't protect both."_

"_I managed to protect the President and his wife," Mom yelled._

"_Because the Circle wasn't after _them_, Rachel," The other man countered, "The Circle's after you and the kids, and when the Circle wants something, they get what they want through means of. . ." He pondered on it, "pure evil."_

_Another thump hit my floor, but I didn't stop my breathing like the first time. I only sighed and whispered, "What is it again Grant?"_

_A footstep echoed and something in my gut yelled at me like _"This isn't right! The footstep sounds heavier than Grant!"_, but I pushed it aside._

"_Well, Grant?" I demanded-whispered as my eyes gazed at Mom and Uncle Joe practically arguing whilst Grandmother Cameron tried to separate them._

_I was stupid. Foolish. Young. Untrained._

_So in a way, it was still slightly my fault that a man grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and placed a chloroform-covered napkin over my nose, causing me to be startled and began to thrash around._

"_Mmmfff! Mmfff!" I shrieked as I began to drift unconscious. He dragged me while I thrashed around towards the window, where a woman grabbed my wrist, and jabbed a syringe at my arm. "Mmmff!"_

_The last thing I could ever remember was being chucked into the back of the van by a red-haired green-eyed woman before I blacked out_

**xXx**

**So, like it? Good or bad? I hope you like it. **

**Anyways the 5 people in Matthew Andrew Morgan's study were Rachel Morgan, Joe Solomon, Grandmother Cameron—not Grandma Morgan—, Patricia Buckingham, and Mr. Goode, Zach's dad who is a double agent in the Circle before being caught and killed.**

**XOXO,**

**Cammary Erys 3**


	2. C One

**Here's Chapter One~!**

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is Jake Blackthorne, and this epic plot, the rest is to the one and only Ally Carter.**

**xXx**

For me, Cameron Ann Morgan was dead as soon as she found out her mother never bothered to look for her, and as soon as she died, a girl named Vanessa Hathor was born. And I've been her ever since.

Vanessa Hathor was a street-rat who slept in motels with the money she's always been able to pickpocket. She lived in different states, and currently, she lived in Roseville, Virginia. Her dishwater blonde hair had black highlights—natural, I never dyed it, those were always there, another gene heredity from my mom—, eyes with the color of intense hazel that sometimes seemed electric blue.

I peered beyond the curb to see the Gallagher Academy sophomores filing out of a van, with Blackthorne boys in tow. One of them was Grant Andrew Morgan. It's been three years since I last saw my brother, so you can't blame me when I gasped at the sight of him so muscular, because he used to be skinny. More people filed out of it before Uncle Joe himself got out. "Okay ladies and gentlemen," He said, "We'll first try brush passes on this coin," He tossed a penny into the air, "Make sure there are _no_ cameras taking in sight of you, otherwise you'd be compromised. Understood?" They all nodded. "Eva Alvarez and Jake Blackthorne, you go first."

He gave it to them before slipping back into the van. They dispersed and set off ways, with said-Eva and Jake heading towards the café. I stepped out of the shadows and blindly followed a green-eyed boy and a girl with piercing blue eyes randomly.

One of my many mistakes that day.

**xXx**

One of the many advantages of being out on the streets on a holiday in Roseville High was that there were no cops trying to send my butt off to a school I never even attended to. I weaved in and out of the gushing crowd—I really think gushing was the correct term since there were people coming out of _everywhere_—as I followed the pair, carefully making sure I was far away so that they couldn't see me.

"Ms. Walters, there was an ATM there. ATMs mean cameras," Joe warned in a comms unit of one of the pairs as they passed by me. "You're getting sloppy, girls. Visiting boys aren't excuses." I had to stifle back a laugh. Was my uncle implying that these girls started to get crushes on the boys?

I mean, sure they were cute and hot, but I've seen better men. I plopped down one of my hats on my head, making sure that both the heat and cameras weren't getting to me and tied my hair. "Ms. Fetterman and Mr. Anderson you've been snapshot by one of the cameras," His voice said as another pair passed by me swiftly, "You're out of the exercise."

I pulled out an earpiece from my Hollister backpack; it was an invention I made from one of those scientist labs I busted into to get some medical supplies from two years back. It would've looked like a regular earpiece to people—and that includes those spies-in-training I was surveying—but it was really like a comms unit, so in a way I could tell you I could hear everything they say whilst they can't hear me.

"Tighten it up, Ms. McHenry!" Joe exclaimed, "That high school boy just saw you pass the coin to Ms. Baxter."

Air whipped my hair to my face. Baxter? As in Abe Baxter's kid? That was new. I remembered she was also with me as a little girl, playing with Arnis sticks since she was so interested in the Philippine art when we were both 6. We were both forced to stop when we were 7 when we accidentally gave my neighbor's 16-year old son a bloody nose.

My eyes darted to the exotic-looking girl with my brother as they practically _strutted_ to the plaza, passing the coin to once-mentioned Ms. Walters. "Good job, Ms. Baxter, Mr. Morgan," Joe muttered.

My brother grinned crazily as he high-fived her. I couldn't help but feel pain shoot up my heart.

One of the two reasons why I went to Roseville was to see in the Blackthorne exchange was that Grant and Mom were safe. That seemed okay, so #1 wasn't much of a problem anymore.

The other reason was that to see how they were coping without me, and with the crazy grin on my brother's face practically yelled at me as if to say they were better off without me, as if those shortages and problems at the house from before were gone as soon as I was abducted. So #2 was also no longer a problem. I wiped my lone tear with the back of my right hand and sniffed.

_They were right,_ I thought,_ they were right when they said they were better off without me._

"You okay, miss?" I heard a boy ask from behind me. I whirled around to see the most _gorgeous_ guy. _Ever._

He had piercing emerald green eyes that made him irresistible to some girls, wavy brown hair that made him look like a laidback kind of guy, his broad shoulders made him look really good, and his well sculpted arms made him look _hot_. "Are you okay, miss?"

I blinked, not in the surprised sense, rather the _I-can't-control-my-tears-since-my-brother-and-mom-was-having-fun-without-me_ sense.

"Mr. Goode," Joe hissed, "What are you _doing_?"

"What I'm doing? This girls crying, want me to look like a fool?" He shot back under his breath.

"Zach's hoping to score some ladies before this ends," Grant snickered. I'm sure Zach didn't want to startle me when he glared daggers at the crowd. I blinked as I backed away.

"N-n-no, I'm g-g-good, really, just got—allergies." I gave him a winning smile as the wall I've spent years trying to build break down; in other words, I was about to show emotions. "Thank you, though." I turned and ran away, ripping off my hat as the tears flow freely down my face.

"Nice job, Zach." I heard him mutter in his comms unit.

My other mistake was ripping the hat off, several cameras managed to take several shots of me. I was seen. And I wasn't even in make-up.

**xXx**

**Zach's P.O.V.**

I blinked as she dashed off. She was really pretty. She had piercing hazel eyes and black-striped blonde hair that made her look like a tiger. She was in denim shorts and a purple tank top with violet Vans and a Hollister backpack. Her eyes seemed kind and generous, but it showed as though she's seen enough pain to try and stay away from civilization.

"Zach," I heard Joe say sternly, "I want you to get Macey and get back here to be debriefed."

I breathed in and nodded shakily, still in trance at the girl who ran off. "Yes, sir."

I turned around and headed towards the general direction of the C.R, where Macey headed off to apply some make-up to get Jake's undivided attention.

**xXx**

**Still in Zach's P.O.V.**

"Zachary, will you tell me the slip-up you did during this clandestine mission?" Joe asked as we sat there, all of the sophomore students in Sublevel One. "Well?"

"I asked a girl if she was okay." I muttered. He shot me a warning glance.

"Correction," He said, "You let a girl get into the mission. You know that it is dangerous, right?" He turned to face the others. "Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen, if you let in a civilian into a clandestine mission, there is a possibility he or she can be part of the organization we are against, or—" He raised an eyebrow. "—a true civilian that said-organization will capture to try and get information on you. So you either get yourself in trouble, or you get him or her in trouble."

They all nodded except for me. "She looked like she was about to cry," I said firmly, "She looked like she's been in enough pain like me. Who knows? Maybe she knows something." There was a pause from Mr. Solomon. "I saw her looking at Bex and Grant." They stopped breathing. "But her eyes stayed on Grant, like there was some familiarity on him." I looked at Mr. Solomon with steely eyes. "She looked like she wanted to go back to something in the past."

He raised an eyebrow. "And this concerns you as how?"

My hands gestured exasperatedly, "She reminded me of myself."

"Oh?" He taunted. "And how did she look like?_" A test within interrogation? _I thought. _Didn't expect that._

But still I replied. "She had piercing hazel eyes that looked like electric blue when she turned around. Her hair was dishwater blonde with black highlights." Joe also stopped breathing. "I guess in a way she also reminds me of—"

"Headmistress Morgan?" He piped up, suddenly realization hit his face. I nodded. He sucked in a breath or two and turned to face the boards.

"Zach, I want you to go to Headmistress Morgan's office. We'll have to discuss this. Go there as soon as the bell rings."

**xXx**

**So? Goode or bad? I'm changing the good to goode since I just introduced Zach here. Also, Jake Blakthorne is a direct descendant of the founder of Blackthorne Institute, like Macey is a descendant of Gallagher, and that he's my version of Nick. : )**

**~Cammary Erys**


	3. C Two

**Hi~! So, I'd like to say thanks to those who follow my story and those who reviewed this. I honestly couldn't care less if there weren't much of reviews. So anyways, I'm going to write this thing in two views: Zach's, and Grant's. **

**I'm sorry for the misspelling of Blackthorne in the previous chapter, it was a typo, and I'm a spelling nut.**

**Anyways, sorry for taking a long time, it's just that I'm scared I'd portray Zach out of character, and this will cause some people to come after me dressed as clowns with grenade launchers disguised as fluffy snake stuff toys. (That's my worst-case scenario: P)**

**Love, Cammary Erys**

**Disclaimer: I only own Jake Blackthorne and this plot; I'd be a mean person if I don't say Gallagher Girls is only Ally Carter's.**

**xXx**

**Zach's Point Of View**

One of the sad things of attending a school exchange where there's no internet connection is that I can't shout out on Facebook that I was about to die by the hands of my favourite person and his late best friend's wife alongside with the _scariest _old woman there is. And the cause of all this was that I'd talked to a _girl_. Joe opened Headmistress Morgan's office door and nearly _chucked_ me inside if it weren't for Ms. Dabney passing by us saying in a sing-song voice, "Even when a boy's in trouble doesn't give an excuse to be rude, Mr. Solomon." I swear that woman has a built-in rude-manners detector.

He sighed and gestured towards the office, "Please get inside, Mr. Goode." I gulped, shuddered, and nodded before entering the office. I strode over to the seat in front of Mrs. Morgan's desk and sat; waiting for Mrs. Morgan and Ms. Buckingham to finish their conversation.

Joe cleared his throat a bit too loudly, causing both women to stop and glare at him. If Joe was scared of Ms. Buckingham's glare; he didn't show it. "What?" Ms. Buckingham snapped before noticing I was there. She sighed, "Fist fight?" I shook my head. "Pranks?" I shook my head. "Class disruption?" Again, a shake of my head. "Snappy comebacks against teachers?" I rolled my eyes; everyone knew I was too _Goode_ for that. "Well, what's the problem then?" She demanded.

I shrugged. "That's _exactly_ what I want to know, Ms. Buckingham," I glared at the back of Joe's head. "Mr. Solomon won't tell me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" She questioned before turning her head to Joe, "And why do you deem _this—_" She gestured to me, "Worthy enough to stop you from teaching the juniors?"

He sighed again and nodded. "Rachel," He began, "We have something to discuss about . . . your daughter."

Mrs. Morgan pretty much stopped breathing. She gulped. "Wha-What about her?" She stuttered.

Joe just looked at me as though unsure of what to say. "I believe Zach saw her firsthand during an exercise awhile ago."

**xXx**

**Grant's P.O.V.**

For me, it was normal for Zach to be called in an office. It was usually on fist fights or pranking some guy named Jonathan Newman. **(A/N: Hey, I have no Newman here, so I might as well use it on a guy that will most likely try and get Ca—no, I won't spill secrets. : ) )** Or, more recently, sneaking out to meet up some hot-civilian chick named Helen. But most of the time I'd be brought in with him. _Especially_ during the time of the _Helen-incident._

I was pretty much walking with Jonas and Jake when I heard my name from behind. "Grant!" Sighing, I turned around to see Tina Walters running after me. "Grant!" She stopped panted and batted her eyelashes in an _I'm-trying-to-flirt-with-you-so-pick-me_ way. "Grant, is it true that the girl Zach Goode saw was one of your ex-girlfriends when you were a player who you broke up with because she refused to sleep with you?" My friends, in a supportive manner, burst out laughing at the false accusation.

I sent them a Morgan glare, which was far more deadly than the Goode, McHenry, and Baxter glare combined. Immediately, they clammed up. I sighed. "No, Tina," She glowed at my announcement, "I was never a player, nor will I ever be one, and I never had a girlfriend." She nodded, turned, and wailed and ran like a little girl.

"HE'S FREE! HE'S FREE!" She yelled out loud. I rolled my eyes. "Announce it to the world," I mumbled before walking back to Ms. Buckingham's classroom.

**xXx**

**Still in Grant's P.O.V.**

We just sat there, reading through our textbooks as we waited for Ms. Buckingham and Zach. The lesson was slightly hard but still bearable. It was, to be honest, hard to cope with the fact we were supposed to be going through a lesson about World War II, the time when Marcus Blackthorne had founded the Blackthorne Institute for Troubled Boys. **(A/N: I'm not going to portray Grant as a moron here. I really think we shouldn't say he's a moron because he's fit or anything.) **It wasn't easy to try and concentrate on the textbook when your seatmate was Tina Walters, and let me tell you, her efforts of flirting weren't really good if you ask me.

The door flew open and a much shaken Ms. Buckingham entered, with none other than my best friend in tow. Everyone stood up and greeted, "Good morning, Ms. B—"

"Sit down," She hissed as she strode over to the blackboards as we complied. "Keep all textbooks and notes hidden, no speaking unless you want me to gracefully kick you out of my class personally, no speaking or passing chain letters. Do not comply with these rules and I swear I will send you to Headmistress Morgan's office before you can say _sorry_." No one tried to hide the scared looks on their faces as the nodded. "Good." And she turned around to start writing on her blackboard.

Zach plopped himself down on his seat two seats to my right, he shot me a warning glance and the other two. _I'll tell you later_, he mouthed as he looked back at Ms. Buckingham as Eva Alvarez and Mick Morrison tried —to no avail— to get his attention. Ms. Buckingham turned around.

"Students," She said slowly, as though trying the word for the first time, "Today we are about to discuss a topic usually held in Covert Operations during your junior year," She leaned in, "But due recent events, I think it's time you know why your parents never let you out of their sight." Liz —Jonas' guide— raised her hand. Ms. Buckingham nodded at her direction.

"Is it about the Circle of Cavan?" She asked aloud. I couldn't help but sit there, like a stone, as I watched Zach sit as still as I was. My hand formed a fist; I hated that name. If you knew me well enough, you can't blame me for thinking something like that. I lost my father to them, and then lost my sister to the said-organization. Then my cousin Casey's mom was really a C.o.C. double agent trying to get into the CIA's files with my maternal uncle's level 7 clearance. Then there was this massacre about Grandma and Grandpa Cameron. . .

I blinked back the tears. I was a Blackthorne Boy, so I had to be strong. _Oh, really?_ His inner self scoffed,_ you lost your father, your sister, your grandparents, and you found out your aunt was a double agent. You're not human if you don't show how much it bothers you, Grant Andrew Morgan._

"Hello?" Tina drew the 'o' out as she snapped her fingers in front of my face. I snapped back, out of my thoughts as Ms. Buckingham talked about the care they take in on their security, which somehow got directed to foreign territory for me.

"Of course, if the Circle knew that someone out of the organization knew something that was prized to their security, they will, of course, try to eliminate those kinds of people, and one of those kinds of people was," She shot me an apologetic look, "Matthew Morgan."

**(A/N: Sorry if this was super long, it's just that I got distracted with all the fanifcs, most specifically SmurfZXC714's A New Beginning. I'm currently reading the Chapter 21, laughing my butt off the Edward Cullen comment. : ) )**

I tried to portray the laidback guy, the guy who didn't give a damn about anything in the world. But I'd be a jerk if I said I hadn't shed a tear as I felt all eyes were on me. "The Matthew Morgan-case grew sloppy," She whispered, "Mrs. Morgan's parents were killed a year after Matthew's disappearance. Mrs. Lena James-Cameron was found to be a Circle double agent a month later. Mrs. Morgan's daughter, however," Another tear escaped me. I didn't care if I looked all girly now, really. "Was abducted as soon as Matthew was pronounced dead."

It reminded me of the time I was a child, bawling my eyes out as Mom, Grandma Cameron, Uncle Joe, Ms. Buckingham —I was just as surprised as Mom was at the time— and some guy tried to get in my head that it wasn't my fault. That it was theirs for forgetting about the security.

But I still felt guilty.

Because, come on, she got abducted right under my unconscious self. My dreams were interrupted by muffled voices I kept pushing away. The next day, when I went down the stairs, hoping to see Cammie, I saw four people trying to calm Mom down, and I instantly knew whose those muffled voices were.

"Of course there are still search parties trying to find her, though with no luck." She shook her head, "Then, a while ago, one of our own claimed to have seen her." Her eyes drifted to Zach, who started to form sweat beads on his forehead. "And now, we're currently investigating if it _is_ her."

She turned back to the board. "Although, students. I wouldn't get your hopes up on this girl." She said nonchalantly, many were confused on why Ms. Buckingham just said that since no one knew I ever had a sister, but I knew she was giving me a warning. _It might not be her_, she was saying.

The bell rung and I quickly stood up, gathered my stuff, and left.

And that was _before_ I was tackled by my cousin.

**xXx**

**So, is it goode or bad? I hope you like it really. I'm adding a new original character to this fanfic and her name is Casey Lena Cameron.**

**I'm giving a heads-up to say that in my fanfic, Rachel Morgan had a twin brother who married Lena Jones-Cameron, the double agent, and Casey is Rachel's niece.**

**Now, I just want to say that, be aware, in future chapters, Jonathan Newman and Casey Cameron will be one of those pinecones on the way to Zammie heaven.**

**Love, Cammary Katarina C. Erys**

**P.S. Sorry if it sucks!**


	4. C Three

**First and foremost, I apologize for the misspellings and wrong grammar from the previous one. I mean, what do you expect? I'm freaking 12 for dignity's sake. You can't expect perfection from me.**

**So, this is most likely in Grant's and Casey's P.O.V.**

**Love, Cammary Katarine C. Erys**

**Disclaimer: I only own Jake Blackthorne, Jonathan Newman, Casey Lena Cameron, and this plot; the rest is to dear Ally Carter.**

**xXx**

**Grant's P.O.V.**

"Grant!" Casey squealed as she clung to my neck while she bounced on the balls of her feet, her French accent evident after years of going to a premier spy school in Paris, France. "Oh que c'est bon de vous revoir ! Trois ans et encore vous regardez si différent !" **(A/N: Oh how good it is to see you again! Three years and yet you look so different!)** I smiled genuinely at my cousin as I managed to pry her off of me.

"What about you?" I teased as I glanced at her up and down. "Three years ago you were in braces with a bunch of baby fat." She glared at me; something that wasn't convincing since she was _still_ smiling. "Now you look more like Aunt Abby than your mom." Her eyes softened, leaving a sweet smile plastered on her face.

I wasn't kidding when I said she looked like Aunt Abby; and Mom, too. The only difference was that she was slightly smaller by a few inches than Mom and her deep wisteria eyes. She laughed; unaware of the passing girls glaring at her. "Grant alors, comment allez-vous aujourd'hui ? Trois années s'écoulent, et vous haven' t même écrit ou appelé votre cousin préféré. Elle pisse moi que vous savez." **(So Grant, how are you now? Three years go by and you haven't even written or called your favorite cousin. It pisses me, you know.)**

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Calls aren't allowed in Blackthorne."

She rolled her eyes. "Si vous couldn' t call m'au cours de l'été ou les vacances d'hiver ? Aucune lettre ? Sérieusement, Grant, Blackthorne permet à ses étudiants se promènent en liberté pendant un certain temps." **(So you couldn't call me during summer or winter break? No letters? Seriously, Grant, Blackthorne lets his students roam free for some time.)**

"I thought you wanted some space." I raised my hands in surrender. "Besides, you know I don't like writing." She raised an eyebrow before opening her mouth to speak. I raised my left hand, effectively cutting her off. "Can you speak in English, Casey? I can't keep up with your French that fast." She nodded.

"Fine," She huffed. She looped her arm in mine and led me towards the dining hall. "I'm thankful Aunt Rachel gave me a map to study about the Academy during summer. It was the _only_ connection to the outside world I've had for three years. Other than the small calls_._" She said meaningfully. "I only got a call from Dad each summer to say I'll be staying in school for summer _and_ winter break while he _ties up some loose ends_. Seriously, Christmas by myself is no fun. No birthday or Christmas cards, nothing at all!" We entered the hall; I was surprised when she didn't notice all the guys staring at her.

"No calls from you or Cammie—" I stopped breathing; although she ignored _that_ "And yet all three of us were _the_ most inseparable people. But what hurts most? My own _mother_ won't talk to me." We sat down as I glared at all the guys thinking of making a move on her.

I took the water pitcher and poured water into my glass and drank. "You don't know?" I asked aloud. She was picking at her white pasta. She looked up from her food with a questioning look.

"Know what?" She asked as Mom entered and took her place at the back of the podium. Mom glanced at me and gave a hand gesture as if to say _don't do it_ and mouthed, "She doesn't know what happened to Lena." I gave a slight head-nod and returned my attention to my food. Casey nudged me with her fork.

"Know what, Grant?" She asked again. I looked up at her. Seriously, I was considering in telling her, but how can I put this— _Hey Casey, our grandparents were killed and so was my dad, your mom's a major traitor and my sister's been abducted and never have been found yet!_ — delicately? Because if I did _that_ I'd be saying _Hey Casey! I found out you were gay and now I'm hooking you up with some bitch I just met!_ Yeah, I'll be dead if I say _that_. So what was I going to say? Easy. . .

"Did you know that there's a film adaptation of Twilight?" Okay, that was a stupid lie. Of course she knows that! Everyone knows about Twilight for fuck's sake!

She raised an eyebrow and punched my arm. "Of course, Grant. I know about Twilight." She said nonchalantly. "I vote Team Jacob." She grinned and began to eat her pasta.

**xXx**

**Casey's P.O.V.**

When we all finished lunch, I just stood up and looped my arm with Grant's again. "Come on," I began, "I want to see their secret passageways." I grinned and dragged him off.

Secret passageways were our thing. Cammie and I loved it, because we could sneak out anytime. Grant didn't like it at first —we barged into his room by accident while he was naked when we were 9— but he warmed up to it when we helped him sneak out to meet his neighbour when we were 10. "Hey Grant," I called at him, "Where's Cammie-Cam?" He stopped abruptly, so was his breathing. "Grant?" I shook his shoulders. "Grant?"

"Grant's just a bit taken back when you asked about Cammie, Casey." I turned around to see Aunt Rachel smiling. Three years, remember that, without seeing family, so seeing my aunt again just made me hug her tightly. "Aunt Rachel!" I exclaimed as I hugged her before I let go. "How are you, Aunt Rachel?" She just gave me a pained smile.

"I'm fine, Casey, thank you." She said.

I stood on my toes and peered around. "Aunt Rachel, where's Cammie-Cam? I haven't seen her in the Hall." I said. "I mean, I know when we were kids she was the Chameleon, I bet she still is, but its easy finding her, you know? I don't know why it was easy for me ever since, but it's easy for me. Where is she?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I sent Cammie to your previous school, Cassidy," I frowned at my real name, "I wasn't aware your father sent you here. I just sent you a map of Gallagher's grounds in case your school has decided for an exchange or anything." I raised an eyebrow as she pushed past me. "Now if you'll excuse me, Cassidy. I need to talk to my son. You're classes will start tomorrow." She unceremoniously grabbed Grant by his forearm and dragged him away.

**xXx**

The halls were deserted. I mean, I know there are classes, but come on. I want to talk to other people. Is that so wrong? Anyways, I ran my hands on the marble walls, looking for any signs of passageways. My eyes gazed at the tapestries as my mind recalled the time my mom and Aunt Rachel let me, Grant and Cammie-Cam roam around, courtesy of Grandma Cameron, the current headmistress at the time. We'd run around, trying to find passageways or fallen notes. We had to go home when we accidentally locked Grant in Grandma Cameron's office. It was hilarious, really. I guess Grant no longer tried stealing Cammie-Cams old teddy bear after that.

That was one thing Cammie and I had in common; we loved to prank Grant for the simplest things.

I stopped by a tapestry painting of Gillian Gallagher, it was the old tapestry I once saw when we were kids. It wasn't the one with Sublevel One's entrance or anything. (I knew about Sublevel One's entrance because I accidentally got trapped inside the elevator when I saw Ms. Buckingham because I thought she was a vampire.) "Beautiful," I mumbled under my breath as I stared at the opal ring adorned on her right ring finger that rested on top of her left hand on her lap.

It glinted against the light and I accidentally jumped back. _It's a tapestry,_ I thought,_ why would an opal ring on a tapestry glint against the light when it was sewn?_ I ran my fingers through it, feeling a cool smooth stone underneath my pale fingertips. _Oh, sweet! It was joined in like what Anastasia Romanov did with her jewels!_

My eyes lingered on the opal as my hands went lower to the frame. Which was stupid considering there was _no _frame. I let my hand wander towards the corner; it was sharp, and tugged at it. It wouldn't budge.

"What are you doing, Ms. Cameron?" I craned my neck to see Uncle Joe.

"Hi Uncle Joe." I said cheerily. "I was just wondering about this tapestry and all." He raised an eyebrow as I tilted my head. "I thought you taught CoveOps?"

He shrugged. "It's free period for me." He walked by my side and smiled. "It's good to see you again, Cassidy." I groaned.

"Seriously?" I threw my hands in the air. "Je l'ai fait clair lorsque j'ai quitté, j'ai détesté s'appelait Cassidy! Il s trop girly!" I rambled in French. **(I made it clear when I left I hated to be called Cassidy! It's too girly!)** I sighed and held my hand up to my forehead. "Appelez-moi, Casey, s'il vous plaît?" **(Call me, Casey, please?)**

Uncle Joe looked at me as though I were crazy and was about to speak when Aunt Rachel piped up from behind me. "Joe!" She called and Uncle Joe turned around. "It's her." She said simply.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Who's who?" He feigned innocence as he gestured at me. Aunt Rachel simply nodded; she must have seen his gesture even though we were thirty feet away. He cleared his throat loudly. "Um, Cassid—" I glared at him, "Casey," He quickly corrected himself, "If you please."

I rolled my eyes. "Uncle Joe," I scoffed, "There's a reason why Aunt Rachel has an office." He cocked an eyebrow. "Fine," I sighed and stormed off.

**xXx**

**I know it's short or anything, so I'm sorry.**

**Her real name's Cassidy Magdalena (Delirium reference) Jones-Cameron.**

**Okay, so if you're wondering about that opal ring, don't worry, I'll explain that in the next chapter.**

**Anyways, I won't update very regularly since my friend just made a written-collab with me and it's my turn.**

**Also, I'm writing a Percy Jackson fanfiction where the PJO and Gallagher Girls world is real and that on their quest in search for Orpheus' harp, they backpack to Roseville, Virginia and see the people with Cammie and her friends are 21. In here, Erys (main character) is happy to find out that the Percy Jackson and Gallagher Girls world she reads about is real.**

**Here's an excerpt! (Not Chapter One)**

**xXx**

**We whirled around to see two women and a man. The first woman looked slightly older, but breathtakingly beautiful, nonetheless. The second had dishwater blonde hair and eyes that seemed to change color. The man, however, had wavy brown hair and green eyes. Abigail gripped my arm tightly as she stared at the trio before us. "Oh my god," She breathed, "It's—It's them!" She squealed and jumped up and down. "It's Mrs. Morgan and Cammie! And Zach! Erys, can you believe this? They're real!"**

**Marc smirked at my left side and whispered in my ear, "Someone owes me a drachma."**

**I rolled my eyes and gave him one. "Okay, fine. You were right that you went to Blackthorne."**

"**Wait," Abigail stopped. "How are we sure Blackthorne's real?"**

"**If it weren't then our favourite secondary protagonist wouldn't be standing in front of us." I said matter-of-factly, pointing to Zach.**

"**How'd you get in here?" Mrs. Morgan demanded. "And how do you know our names?"**

**My face was still red from the harsh winter cold. It was never this cold in the Philippines. I was still thankful, though. Because that way they won't notice I was blushing. Zach was really cute in personal. Too bad he was about 21 by now. I took off my OBEY hat. (When I said my, I meant Kean's but I took it back at camp) "We saw an opening by the side, Abbey and I were curious if it was really the spy school we read about."**

**Apparently Cammie thought of a new question. "What do you mean the spy school we read about?"**

**Abbey tugged at my arm. "She has the five books with her!" I glared at her.**

"**Geez," I sighed, "Tell them I bring five books with me each day."**

**xXx**

**I'm not going to put it in FF.N or anything; I just wanted to show an excerpt of it to you. : )**

**I hope you liked it, because if you do, you're encouraging me to continue, I mean, I'm still writing Chapter Eleven of it and yet that excerpt is just a plan for Chapter Twenty-Six.**

**Love, Cammary Erys**


	5. C Four

**Has anyone wondered if Ally Carter will merge the Gallagher Girls and Heist Society world? I certainly think about it. Every single day. It would be nice if there were love triangles in the process, but still the same pairs in the end, which is sweet because in a way they prove how much they love their significant other. It's very cheesy, but still it's very sweet. Maybe I'd start one myself. : )**

**I'm sorry for being so late in updating. I guess you'd want to chase me dressed as clowns with grenade launchers disguised as snake stuff toys. . . That perspective never seems to change.**

**To tell the truth, I was afraid while I was doing this chapter because I didn't know how it will follow out, but when I read the reviews, and certain words and pleas, BAM! I found my plot! : ) So . . .**

**I would love to say thank you for those who reviewed my fanfic, because at least I know I wasn't a waste of your time. So I love you guys. : )**

**Love, Cammary Katarine C. Erys**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Gallagher Girls series neither Casey's middle name; it belongs to Ally Carter and Lauren Oliver**

**xXx**

**Third Person's Point Of View**

She was tired. Broken down. Honestly, she could sleep through one and half a century and _still_ feel it wasn't enough. She plopped down on her motel bed, not bothering the cockroaches that scuttled across her feet and on her bed. The walls' wallpapers were torn apart; as if wolves had clawed at it in desperation. The furniture had lots of chunks missing from its corners. The mirror was so dirty, you couldn't see anything but a chimpanzee with a powdered wig and deep red lipstick mirroring as yourself. Was that even possible?

She certainly didn't think so. But nothing's impossible, right? She opened her backpack and took out a laptop. Once it booted itself up, she opened her e-mail. There was so many of them she couldn't possibly count all of them. They were all from each state she'd been. Loads of them were from people she met once or twice. But she knew for a fact there was _never_ a third time.

Delete. That was all she did to all of them without a second thought. It was probably stupid of her to still keep the same e-mail, but it was her only way to keep tabs to the others.

The cursor fluttered over to a document reading **Confidential**. Her breathing came to a halt. . . So had her cursor. It was rather hard for her to press it, as much as she wanted to. She gave out a shaky breath. Will she press it or not? With a heavy sigh, she decided to read it. She clicked on its link, it revealed blueprints. Of the school. "What—Why—What is _this_ for? It's like there's something about it that's wrong." She murmured under her breath. Her eyes read all the notes that were jumbled up on the right side as her right hand ran along her hair. She gasped as her eyes read the last line.

"What the hell?!" She shrieked on the top of her lungs, suddenly edging away from the pink little laptop. She looked _so_ mature. "What is this? What—" Her phone buzzed in her pocket; she fished it out and answered it, holding it close to her ear.

"Sweetie, you know you have to change that e-mail soon." Catherine purred with disappointment. "It's very easy to track you nowadays." She gave a mere eye-roll.

"Catherine, dear, if I'd change it I'd have no means on contacting you." She smirked. "My DeOssie Smartphone won't let me contact _you_." She heard a laugh from behind. "Is Hector there?"

"Yes," Catherine replied. "I had him see through the photos of today's events." She could feel Catherine's mouth turn into a cruel smile in the other end of this conversation. "Apparently my little boy saw her today."

She looked stunned for a moment. "I don't understand, Catherine," She walked towards her bathroom, not minding its greasy tile walls and floors. "Why'd you let her escape? It's _worthless_ to keep her running around. What if she finds them and tells them all about what happened—"

"She won't," Catherine promised, "Otherwise, she'd have done it by now. _We_ weren't the ones who forced her to stay away from dear Rachel. _She_ chose that on her own." She had a point there.

Her hand flew to her forehead. "But what about the blueprints, Catherine? How can we get it done? We don't have people in the Academy and—"

"Sweetie," Catherine said, "That's what Steve is for." She grabbed a fistful of her hair in retaliation.

"Steve can't get anything done, Catherine!" The wisteria-eyed woman said. "He's too . . . predictable. Send me there, I'll change everything. My name, face, anything!"

Catherine made a _tsk-tsk-tsk_ sound. "I'm sorry, Lena. It's too dangerous." She paused for a moment as if in thought. "I'm sending Hector to go there and pick you up at the gazebo two days from now. I'll get Randy to take your place."

Lena snorted. "You're going to send that seventeen year old boy? Zach's brother? You have to be joking. He was the reason why Cameron escaped!"

"It wasn't him." Catherine snapped. "It was _him_." She spoke the perspective of her husband with such disgust and venom you'd think he was the devil. "He had what came to him."

"Catherine it's too dangerous." Lena pleaded. "Zach will try and blow his cover! Jared must have told him of Randy so they ought to —"

A rap against her chipped door came out. "Ma'am? Here's your pizza delivery!"

"What was that?" Catherine demanded. "Lena, who is that?"

Lena shrugged. "I don't know." She murmured as she began to stride over to her door. "I never remember buying any pizza, Cathy. Maybe I had this morning." Her eyes narrowed into the little hole to show the face of the pizza delivery guy. He was tall, black-haired and blue-eyed. He was familiar somehow. "I got so caught up with tailing Cammie that it must've slipped my mind."

"Remember, Lena." Catherine warned. "It may be a trap." Lena gave a shaky breath and nodded as her hand reached for the doorknob.

"I'll be careful." She opened it. "Yes?"

He nodded. "Your pizza, ma'am. For Room 4B." He said as he tipped his cap. She nodded.

He smiled. "Um, how much?" The thirty-eight year old woman. His smile turned into a grin.

"An interrogation will be nice." He said thoughtfully as he opened the box's lid.

Powder spewed on her face. She yelped and backed away. "What the fuck is this?" She coughed and slammed into the dirty mirror.

"Lena!" She could hear Catherine's voice tinged with worry.

She wiped away the powder and glared. "What have you done—"

Her eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped forward, collapsing. "Lena!" Catherine shrieked again. Joseph only shrugged as if nothing happened. Rachel peered out. "Shall I?" He nodded.

Rachel strode over to her slumbering sister-in-law and held her by the jaw, angling it against the light. It really was her. "This is Lena." She said triumphantly as she looked over at Joseph smugly. "I told you we found her."

He smirked the smirk that rubbed off on Zach and held his hands in surrender. "Okay, fine, you got me. But can you tell me how you found her after all these years?"

She smiled sweetly as she hauled up Lena. "Mosckowitz _is_ good for something. So is facial recognition." She said simply, as if it answered all.

**xXx**

**Ha~! I bet you thought when I meant they found her you thought it was Cammie, huh? Got you goode! : )**

**OKAY, FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER, THEY WILL BE SEARCHING FOR CAMMIE. BUT WHICH PARTY? RACHEL AND JOE OR ZACH AND THE GANG? SEE MY PROFILE FOR THE POLL!**

**Love, Cammary Katarine C. Erys**

**P.S. Pardon for its shortness.**


	6. C Five

**Hey~! So, yeah, I closed the poll last Thursday. So there was 10 (plus 2) people who voted for Zach and the Gang to find her while 3 people wanted Rachel and Joe. **

**Ermagerd~! Double Crossed is coming out soon! Can you believe it? Macey and Hale?! That's cool. Although I wanted it to be like Cammie crossing paths with them during summer and that Kat's crew managed to track her back to Roseville after Out of Sight, Out of Time for some reason. I just hope there won't be a romance between the two; Hale/Kat is my fav other than Zammie. :)**

**Anyways, enough with the fangirling, here's Chapter Five~! Wow . . . I can't stop laughing since the auto correct of fangirling is 'fingerling' x) Sooo weird.**

**Disclaimer: I only own 3 people, this plot, too. The rest is to dear Ally.**

**xXx**

**Cammie's P.O.V.**

I lied down on my bed, ignoring the stench and odour the protruded from its bed sheets. Cockroaches scuttled beneath the bed; it was disgusting, sure, but I've been in places that were far more disgusting than this shit hole.

"_They're better off without you, bitch." She snarled at me. I spat in her face, something I learned from action movies. Her eyes filled with rage as the back of her hand wiped it all away before slapping me with it. The hand, I mean, not the spit. "You're a persistent slut, aren't you?" Her hand grabbed my bruised jaw and looked me in the eye. "Like your whore of a mother, but don't worry. We'll get that pride and stubbornness out of your system and down that ass soon enough." She let go of me and slapped me again. Harder this time, before leaving me as I sobbed._

I blinked the hot tears that started to prick my eyes away. I hated that memory; the one of the woman telling me my family hated me. When I escaped after the forty days of torture, I willed myself to forget it all; to leave it locked up in the depths of my mind where I lock up all unwanted memories. I wanted to close my heart; I wanted to stop feeling things like shame and guilt, even hopelessness. Those things didn't save me in my time there; where I was hit, stabbed, drowned, electrocuted, and raped.

_Raped,_ that word echoed in my mind. I was twelve when I was raped, like Jaycee, except my captors' intentions weren't to continue the family line; it was to break me down, get me to spill about everything on my family. They wanted to know about our bank accounts, close friends, the security threats on our house, and, most importantly, where my father kept something I didn't know of. It was the cruellest thing that happened to me; that was what finally gave me a message that I've been stubbornly pushing away for days: my family wasn't going to save me. That I was on my own.

_He entered; a cruel mocking grin was plastered on his face as his eyes roamed up and down on my body. _Please,_ I remembered saying, _please let me go. I don't know anything._ He uncuffed me and dragged me outside and into another room; this time with a bed and a table. _We're going to have so much fun,_ He purred in my ears as I suddenly realized what he was about to do to me._ No!_ I shrieked and began to squirm as he threw me effortlessly to the bed._ Please!

Suddenly I jerked back to reality, I sat up as the tears I threatened away spilled, flowing down in a steady rhythm down my face like a waterfall. I pulled my knees closer to my chest and hugged myself; I couldn't take it in.

You'd say I was a moron; that I was a wimp; that there was much more amateurs than me that was in my position and how it took terrorists years to get through them, to finally get their pride go down. I was twelve, alone and scared, as my captors did anything they wanted to do with me.

_He cuffed me hands to the bedposts; my feet to the other two. _Give me what I need and maybe I won't do it,_ He said matter-of-factly. I tried to squirm out from under his intense gaze that filled with lust and want. He started to put my shirt up, exposing my bra. I just recently started puberty and already had I started to look like a fourteen year old girl. His smile widened and tears began to fall down my face._ I don't know anything!_ He ignored my pleas and began to pull down my pajamas._

The tears began to grow unsteadily, I started to hyperventilate. "No," I muttered as I relived that horrible time. "Please . . . No!"

_He unclasped my bra and drew it up, leaving my top exposed. _You're pretty, you know,_ He mused as he placed a hand on my chest._ Please! Please, no! I'm a child! My mom's—

Your mom's not coming to get you, bitch._ He slapped me across the face; I could feel its stinging against my pale cheek._ How many times do we have to tell you that?_ He leaned against my neck as I closed my eyes, tears threatening to spill down to my cheeks. I could feel his breath against my neck; it was cold and heartless, like all he'd done to prove himself was nothing but break down the hopes and dreams of little girls. Like what he was doing to me now. His hands roamed up and down, tugging at the hem of my underwear. His hands ventured beneath it. I blinked harder as I felt his hands just lingering outside of me. No!_

"No!" I shrieked as I let go of my knees, tears blurring my vision. "No!" But I was too late. The past caught up to the present. I knew he wasn't there. But I could feel his cold hands pulling me down, his slick tongue running up and down my neck. It was like he was a ghost; a husk of his former self, who was out to try destroy me. _Where were you when I needed you?_ When he was done, he left me cuffed to the bed as I bled 'down there.'

When that happened, my mind shut down. I didn't bother the next days he did what he had done to me. It was usually a new guy each hour. _Hour_. A new man each hour for the next 36 days to try and break me down. I didn't speak, I didn't complain, I didn't flinch. I was happy they no longer subjected me to electrocution, but what they were doing to me was far worse than both drowning and electrocuting me.

I was glad that in the Cameron family, menstruation cycles for women won't start until they hit thirteen. But still, I felt like I was being ripped inside-out. My mind thought of escapes, all forms of them.

It was cruel, inhuman. My heart was breaking apart as my 'down there' would throb. I didn't get rests; it was so painful having to go through it. But did I care? No, I was already past restraining myself to them. I was no longer a girl. I was a toy. A toy for men to have fun without worrying what the toy thought of. My eyes darted around, trying to grasp something materialistic. But I couldn't. Everything in my motel room reminded me of those days.

Oh no, this was bad. My black-out was too much. I was reliving the real deal, I could feel my bottom throbbing with pain, my head started to hurt, my chest swelling. My eyes blurred and my surroundings no longer looked like the horrible ceiling of Roseville Motel's 4C; it began to look like the horrible room I was cuffed to, and a man's face hovering above my frail one.

I could feel cold hands; his intense gaze that filled with lust; his breath on my neck; my tears on my face. It was a condition I had. I didn't know if there's a name to it, but if every time I'd try to remember the past, it would catch up to me somehow and torture me in the inside.

My eyes fluttered towards the slimy bathroom. _Wait,_ I thought, _that room had no bathroom._ So I held onto that scene. Suddenly the pain and the visions numbed as my eyes glared at the bathroom. The tears slowed down to a halt; the pain had dulled then stopped. I breathed a bit.

I sighed and stood up, forgetting the pain in my legs as I walked towards the mirror I cleaned awhile ago. I leaned against its table as I forced myself to look at my reflection. I looked fine. My face wasn't red from the hits I would get. My eyes weren't swollen shut. My clothes were intact and unscathed. I was fine. On the outside. Inside, however, I could feel disappointment welling in my chest as it battled against shame. I hung my head as the tears came down; my hands gripping the table's edges too tight.

_Where was mommy?_ I remember thinking everyday as I was raped._ Where's Casey? Daddy? Grant? Grandma? Maybe they were right, that they were better off without me. I'm not Cammie anymore. I'm Vanessa . . . if no one was saving me from my life, then I can do anything I want . . . like change my name and personality._

Day 3 was the day I decided to be a new person. To be Vanessa Hathor, a girl who didn't give a fuck on anything besides herself. But as I looked at my reflection once more, I could see the cold, naïve Cammie resurfacing, was trying to push Vanessa away.

Seeing to check on them was a mistake. Their faces remind me of a family I could have had if they had tried to find me.

**xXx**

**Sorry if you hate me for doing this. For making a young Cammie feel so something so . . . inhuman. But I wanted to show you why Cammie stayed away, why tears were there in Chapter One when she met Zach. I know some of you are wondering things like **Why does Cammie push away her family? Not being found is a stupid excuse.** then there's your answer. Cammie's too strong to be broken down by material things like being drilled open or being electrocuted, or even verbal abuse.**

**So, what was happening to her was that every time she'd try to think of her past, it would suddenly rush back to her. All her feelings and the pain she was feeling from then was killing her in the inside. If she sees something that isn't a resemblance to that room, she has to focus on that and the pain will dull away.**

**From, Cammary Erys**


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